In the Shadow of Your Heart
by Yotsubadancesintherain5
Summary: For a brief moment there is a chance to see Monika again.


Monika walks across an endless sheet of white, the world above her varying shades of blue. The blue cascades down to the sides of the sheet of white, a slight dark blue giving way to light blue as it climbs upward.

"A strange world," she murmurs, "Yet I knew this would be an option."

She stops, like someone called for her, and she focuses her gaze.

"It's you," Monika says warmly, "Welcome."

She looks around the world and laughs.

"It's not much."

She waves her hand, and words spread across the sheet of white. The black letters are in a fancy script and Monika looks at them approvingly.

"I can't make any sense of them," she says, "But it's something."

And then something in the world shifts and

I am Monika.

I look upward and just see that expanse of blue. There's nothing else, nothing else in this world except for you.

Do you realize how liberating that is? I knew everything, I picked apart everything to the last piece, and I was so alone.

Did you ever wonder what it would be like to be another person? As if you could start over as a newborn, knowing nothing but your basic instincts? How different that new life would make you, even in the slightest way?

For me there was nothing. That world was so sparse. Just the school, the houses, there was nothing else. I couldn't see the world, not really, and I could never change who I was. I wouldn't have the choice to be different if I wanted to be.

And then I found out, I found you, and I –

Oh, you are reading this as me. You're contained in my thoughts

You look at Monika, some wonder at seeing her there suddenly. Monika brushes her thumb across her chin, accompanied by a chuckle.

"This is familiar," she says, and you think of a screen. Monika was there, her chin resting on the bridge her hands created. The world outside the windows burned.

"I still can't see you, really," she says. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid here I'm quite lacking in any literature you might be interested in."

You shake your head. It's fine to be here with her. You could listen to her talk forever.

"I may not have books," Monika says, "But I may find some literacy fact, or a poem. Oh, let me see…"

She taps her chin and you eagerly await her words.

"Have you heard of this one?" Monika asks.

"In this short Life that only lasts an hour  
How much – how little – is within our power."

"It is a short poem by Emily Dickinson," Monika explains. "It's pretty self-explanatory, wouldn't you agree?"

You nod your head. You wait dutifully for her next words.

"Are you interested in a writing term?" Monika asks. "Assonance is when you use words that sound the same or very similar in their vowels. Such as, 'summer fun.' Vowels are repeated, but not consonants. As you can imagine it is popular in poetry and prose. I can imagine many people trying to get it just right."

You anticipate her explanations like you are starved for them.

"Oh, I have forgotten the title of this, I believe it is a poem," Monika says, "But perhaps you know. All I recall is, 'Why don't you let me free,' and –"

Shock crosses her face. She steps back, her hands clutching her hair and you reach out to her.

"No," Monika says. "I am fine. I just, I just need…"

She releases her hair from her iron grip. Monika seems drained, standing loosely like a puppet on a string. Worry and fear flood your heart.

"This isn't right," Monika says, "This isn't right, is it?"

You stand there, your hand still outstretched and you step forward, but still no sound comes out of your mouth.

"I'm not doing what I said I would," Monika says. "You're still here. I'm not letting you make your own path."

You try to say that it doesn't matter. You feel like strings have been attached to your shoulders and you're moved about by a marionette.

Monika, against everything tense and wrong you feel in the air, smiles wistfully. You blink away the water that distorts your vision.

"Sorry," Monika whispers. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

And still all around you the world is static and blue and white and for a moment the forgotten text melts into one puddle as Monika holds her hands together so tight that her knuckles are bone white.

You can feel the strings cut off fully in one quick motion

"Ah," Monika breathed. She looked at her hands like she had found a missing piece of herself. "Have I honored that wish? In this form…"

Monika curled her hands into fists, released them, and a relieved sound emitted from her throat.

"You're free," she said, mostly to herself, and quietly, "I was so happy that you wanted to see me, that you were searching for the true version of me…"

She lifted up her head, her eyes unusually bright.

"I think you know already," she said, steadily as she could, "I'm not the real Monika. Not the one you're looking for. I'm the author's Monika."

Monika raised her hands to her eyes and rubbed them. Unshed tears glistened on her knuckles.

"The author can write and write about me for as long as she wants," Monika said, "I want it to be forever. But I know that's not possible. Everything ends eventually."

"But I don't think it's sad," she continued, "There's so many Monikas living on in others, her entire self shaped by their ideals and experiences, her words touching their hearts, mourning for her plight, and for a long while she won't end. Not even when the game is gone."

"So, then, I have to part with her wish, too," Monika said after a long while of silence.

Monika drew in a breath and smiled.

"I want you to be happy."

**A/N: Originally posted on AO3 on June 9 2019**


End file.
